Drifting Out
by ineedtoleavethissite
Summary: "To put it bluntly, I'd fuck you." Written for the Glee Girls Smut Meme on LJ. Pure PWP.


**Dear readers,**

**While I work on the Marley POV for Maybe This Time, enjoy this hand-slip of a fic that simply celebrates the hotness of Martana.**

**This was written for the Glee Girls Smut Meme on LJ. Prompt: _Santana/Marley – "To put it bluntly, I'd fuck you."_ **

**There is no plot to speak of, and I don't own Glee or Porcelain Raft's music.**

**Love,**

**Me**

* * *

Santana's mood sinks as soon as she sees the caller ID on her phone.

When she picks up – reluctantly, but shit, emergencies happen, so fuck it – she doesn't even bother saying hello, just waits for him to tell her what he wants.

"Hello? Santana? Is that you? Santana? Hello?"

But of course he's dumb as shit, so he'll never get to the point.

"The fuck you want, jolly green?"

"Oh, hi Santana!" Santana just rolls her eyes. "How are you?"

Santana says nothing.

"So," Finn goes on, after an awkward pause, "regionals are coming up and we're doing another mentor week, and I thought–"

"Fuck off, will you?" is all Santana answers, then puts down the phone.

–

She calls him back, later.

(Fuck her softness.)

She books a ticket after that, too.

(Whatever, she misses her mum. The rest of the Lima fuckers can die, for all she cares.)

–

Walking down McKinley's hallways after spending the last few months in the best city in the universe really makes everything around her seem like utter small-town shit. Like, even more than usual.

God, she's glad for the upgrade.

The glee club seems the same as the last time Santana left it, though it's now in the hands of two incompetent assholes instead of one. No wonder the graduates were called in as reinforcements.

Brittany is still... Brittany. And Sam is still a dickface.

Whatever. Not much has changed.

Somehow Finn has convinced himself that 'selling sexy' should be brought back, and decided on a setlist comprised of rhythm and blues. Shockingly, the song selection doesn't suck – the simple presence of Beyoncé works wonders as per usual. The songs guarantee good vocals and some decent moves, and also gives way for some sexiness to be added to the routine.

Well, it really would work better if members like Teen Jesus and The Bow Tie weren't also in the mix, because seriously, there's like, five percent sex appeal in this entire club.

Or like, six percent. When she sees Marley, she can immediately see the difference from the last time they met – Marley's gaunt, pale frame is gone and replaced by a face full of colour and life, and a body of curves instead of bones. And like, good curves.

But whatever. Marley looks healthy, Santana thinks, so that's good.

Despite her new appearance, though, she's sitting all depressed on the side of the auditorium, away from the club, and well. Santana likes this girl, and feels for her – she knows what its like having to put up with these twats, because Marley's relatively normal in comparison – so she goes to sit next to Marley with her legs hanging off the stage.

"What's cracking, little smurf?" Santana asks.

"Hi, Santana."

Oh, the melancholy. Santana smirks a bit at remembering just how dramatic high school could be at times.

"So which one is it? School, parents, friends or l_ove?_"

"What are you talking about?" Marley asks.

Santana just levels her with a glare, because she's never been one to have time for coyness.

Marley sighs. "Everything, really."

"Right," Santana says. "Well, as your mentor, again, I'm going to tell you to stop thinking about it, and sing."

They spend the rest of the afternoon reworking Rihanna's 'Sorry' into a more acoustic sounding version, which makes it even slower and more depressing – but oh well, Santana just hopes that Marley's getting it out of her system by sulkily singing to the zombie beat.

–

She's so fucking happy Puck is here, too.

Sure, her new Coyote Ugly gig is really paying off, but even so, it's not like she can afford any good weed in New York at the prices it runs for there.

Santana's parents have left the house to her for the whole week, too, which means she can totally stink up her room for a bit before the eventual quick spring clean and lighting of essence the day before her parents are due to arrive.

Currently, she's spread out on her bed, blowing smoke rings up to the ceiling and listening to some good old Ms Franklin singing about her troubles. She's feeling nice and mellow, tired after mentoring the whole fucking week, and just relaxing for her last day before trekking back to the big city.

Tomorrow she'll go watch the New Directions perform at some serious sing-off with Vocal Adrenaline – or whatever the fuck, she wasn't paying attention – and then it's time to get on that plane.

Been boring as shit, this whole thing, but it hasn't been a curse hanging out with Marley all week, at least, so there's that. Of course, the tension on stage was unbearable at times, what with Santana focusing on keeping her attention away from the blonde twins and Marley also steadfastly avoiding her now ex-boyfriend, little Puck. At least it gave them some solidarity against the rest of the club, and it was nice that not every little part of the visit was absolutely terrible, as she originally expected.

Santana sighs as the doorbell rings, effectively shaking her out of her calm reverie. So close to just having a normal Friday night in. So close.

She tramples down the stairs – though it feels like gliding to Santana, she knows it doesn't look it, as high as she is right now – hoping that it's just the mailman or something, but she knows her own luck, and doesn't want to hope in vain.

But surprisingly, it's Marley.

(And well, compared to everyone else it could have been, that lives in the near vicinity, Santana feels she got dealt the best card in this situation.)

She looks distraught, for some reason, and Santana just sighs, because high school melodrama could serve as a real downer for her current carefree mood.

"Hi, Santana."

Oh dear God. It's so downcast, Santana rolls her eyes and just pulls Marley inside, desperate to get back to her room and to her much needed joint.

–

Marley surprises Santana when she just accepts the joint passed on to her when Santana offers, and well, okay, maybe this visit won't be so gruelling, after all.

Marley just kind of holds onto the joint and Santana rolls her eyes before setting to work on a new one for herself.

When Marley's solemn look really starts to get on Santana's nerves, she says, "Spit it out, chica," and Marley just sighs and shrugs.

"I'm nervous for tomorrow, is all."

"Ah," Santana answers, finally lighting her own bud. "The solo."

Marley shrugs again. "I guess."

Santana frowns. "Listen, I'm your mentor, yeaH? You're gonna rock it, I know it. And well, you're just– You reflect on me. So. You know, don't disappoint, or whatever."

"Yeah," Marley says simply, tone still highly indifferent. "It's just that, well..."

Marley shakes her head, and then just takes another drag, before finally offering the thing to Santana. She looks kind of startled when she sees that Santana's already fixed herself a new one and Santana laughs at the look on her face. Marley grins, too, thankfully lifting the heavy atmosphere for a change.

"Sorry," Marley mumbles, referring to her spaced-out attitude, Santana guesses, and Santana just waves her off before changing the music to her best R 'n B playlist to liven things up a bit.

They sit in silence for a while, finishing their joints before Santana rolls them both another. When she hands Marley hers, Marley finally speaks up about what it is that's been plaguing her all day.

"I don't know how to be sexy," Marley suddenly blurts out.

Santana stops rolling for a second to stare at her, unsure if she heard that right.

"Sorry," Marley says, off Santana's look. "Ignore what I said. It's stupid."

Santana shakes her head, because ignoring her own body is what for Marley to pass out on safe last time, and so if she needs to talk about it, Santana will do anything to listen. That's what a mentor is for, right?

"Tell me," Santana says softly, lighting their joints and sitting back against the headboard.

Santana leans back leisurely, feeling the calm waves splashing through her body. There really hasn't been a better time for Marley to open up, and Santana's glad Marley feels at ease enough with her to do so.

"I dunno; the routine is great and everything, but I feel all this pressure to sell it, with more than just my voice, because of out theme, and well, yeah," Marley finishes, looking unsure about how to phrase her thoughts.

"What kind of pressure?" Santana asks, slowly, and Marley blanches.

"Not– No, no, not like that again, I haven't..." Marley swallows and closes her eyes for a second.

"It's alright," Santana says softly. "Sorry."

She feels uncomfortable for a moment, but then Marley just smiles and waves her hand through the air before taking another drag and concluding, in a fast and rambling voice, "It's just that I can go up there and sing my heart out, but this whole thing is about being sexy and it'll be unfair if we lose just 'cause I don't have any sex appeal."

Santana can't help it – she laughs for long minutes. When Marley looks at her with a frown, Santana coughs and sits up straight, recovering from her laughfest.

"You being legit right now?"

Marley looks stupefied, and honestly. Santana's been aware of the power that comes with looking like she does since she was like, twelve. Has Marley just not looked at herself in the mirror lately, or...?

"Marley, you're not, like, _serious_, are you?" Santana says, and then vaguely gestures down to Marley's body, because hello, she's pretty sure the message is getting across.

But Marley it still looking at Santana likes she's an amoeba, so perhaps not. And Santana's strong suit has never been anything remotely related to euphemisms, so.

"Well, my dear little apprentice," Santana says, extinguishing the joint and reaching out for another paper. As she's filling the next one, she continues, "To put it bluntly, I'd fuck you."

Marley's mouth is hanging open. She blinks, twice, and Santana resists the urge to laugh. When she says nothing in return, Santana asks, "Comprende?" And Marley just nods.

Santana just smirks and goes back to fiddling with her rolling paper. She's just thinking about what else she can do to make Marley as uncomfortable as she possibly can, since this is the most entertained she's been all week, when her attention is suddenly stolen by Marley's hand on her neck and Marley's lips being pressed forcefully against hers.

Santana's so startled that she just sits there, eyes wide open, frozen as Marley presses against her, and after two of the longest seconds imaginable Marley pulls back, feeling Santana's inaction. Santana watches as Marley comes into focus when her face stops moving a few centimetres away from Santana's face.

"Sorry," Marley says, but she's frowning, not looking sorry for doing that at all, but rather just confused, like she expected a different reaction.

And well, Santana was completely facetious with that comment, but now that the possibility of it suddenly materializes right in front of her, she realizes that she's not exactly opposed to it, either.

(That, and, she's been in so many of these situations before, with these super hot straight girls that just want to see what it's all about, just for a moment, and she's been all to happy to assist in answering their questions. Really, it's been her pleasure.)

Before she knows it, she's pushed up back into Marley and they're kissing heatedly.

Marley knows what to do in that department, and Santana's dizzy, straightening up until they're both on their knees, Marley's hands on her neck and her own wounding around Marley's waist.

Marley pulls and pulls and Santana pushes in return – action and reaction – head in the clouds.

Santana finds herself landing between Marley's thighs, easily, and the first move Marley makes is to reach down to toy with Santana's belt. Santana grins against Marley's lips, because that is just such a fucking straight girl thing to do, and then makes her own move when she starts unbuttoning Marley's top.

Marley doesn't know what Santana's laughing at, but just starts grinning as well, and soon they're giggling as they're tugging off each other's clothes, and it's fun, this, Santana thinks.

There's also this moment where Marley pulls down Santana's jeans and looks so confused at what to do when an erection doesn't spring free anywhere, that Santana outrightly laughs at the lost look on her face before advancing again, mumbling between kisses that Marley needs to chill out and not think so hard.

Santana fumbles with Marley's bra strap and it takes her much longer than usual, and that makes her aware just of how very stoned she is right now, and she wonders about Marley's own inebriated state.

She wonders about a lot of things, then, suddenly, and pulls back quickly.

"What's wrong?" Marley asks, surprisingly softly for the sizzling atmosphere they were caught in just seconds ago. She looks slightly hurt, surprisingly, and Santana just shakes her head, not wanting to bring up any of Marley's insecurities about her body.

"Just," Santana breathes out, "I... Have you... Is this– You've done this before, right?"

Marley smiles cheekily, and Santana feels foolish all of a sudden.

"Sorry, sorry," Santana says, still catching her breath slightly, running a hand through her hair, nodding.

"But only with boys," Marley clarifies, and Santana just nods again, because she kind of figured that one.

(Her brief time at Louisville has secured her some of the wonderful straight-experimentations she recounted earlier, but new dabbles in the nightlife of New York have exposed her to more gay one-night stands, she's learned to tell the difference between the two quickly – it's mostly the belt move that gives them away.)

Santana wants to ask Marley is sure about this, but gets her answer prematurely when Marley reaches around and tugs off her bra in return. She looks down at Marley, still only in her underwear, and well.

Marley has a stunning body and wears really cute pink cotton panties and a surprisingly lacy blue bra, and it's just so mismatched but strangely cute, and with the way Marley's looking at her with that raised eyebrow, it just hits such a right balance between sexy and adorable that Santana suddenly feels like she's boiling over, and lurches forward to rid Marley of her underwear.

Before Santana knows it, they're both fully naked and Santana's staring at Marley now-unclothed body appreciatively.

Marley's blushing, and Santana can't help but smile adoringly at her.

It occurs to Santana, then, for some reason, that if Marley's had sex but has problems with feeling sexy, baby Puckerman must have succeeded in making Marley feel good – fucking hopefully – but not _beautiful_ and sexy in the process, which is something entirely different. Santana remembers her own experiences with high school boys, and figures that yeah, that logic is highly likely.

So, she sets out on a mission to do just that – to make Marley feel crazy amounts of sexy while they do this, starting with putting a mouth around Marley's nipple.

Hands tangle in her hair and Marley arches into her and fuck, this shit will never stop making Santana feel absolutely _alive_.

She licks, nips and sucks until Marley's calling her name above her and Santana moves up so they can attach their lips together again. Marley surprises Santana when she reaches up and cups Santana's breasts and Santana smiles into her mouth, not altogether disappointed by this turn of events.

Santana presses down with her hips experimentally and Marley whimpers, and then Santana just kisses her, almost filthily, again bucking her hips down shamelessly. Marley responds with much vigour, pressings up into Santana and running hot palms up her back. Santana is once again surprised when Marley reaches down and grabs her ass, and she just continues rutting against Marley, enjoying the sounds she's pulling from the girl below her.

She stops her actions when she remembers her mission – she wants to be making Marley feel sexy right now – and lifts up her body, moving to Marley's neck and then down to her chest again.

Marley's skins smells sweet, some fruity scent invades Santana's senses completely and shit, she wants to be inside Marley so badly right now, but she knows her job is far from being done.

With a restraint that can only be attributed to the weed, Santana brings back the easy air from earlier and kisses all over Marley's stomach, then bites into the slight hint of abs she can see under taut flesh. Marley's thighs tighten against her sides and Santana smirks, leaning down to press teasing kisses on the inside of Marley's thighs before moving up and kissing a now-squirming Marley again.

Marley's kisses are wet and deep, and Santana finds that she easily loses herself in the feeling. The only things running through her mind is a big fucking question asking why she didn't just start kissing this fucking girl the minute she became her mentor, 'cause the whole way Marley uses her mouth – it's _intoxicating_.

Marley whimpers again, presses up into her again, and Santana pulls back and smirks as she looks down at her.

(She's way older and more experienced than anyone Marley's ever been with, she's sure, and fuck if she isn't going to prove the shit out of that right now.)

Marley's hair is spread on the pillow and her eyes shine bright in contrast to Santana's sheets. She bites her lip as Santana moves her hand from Marley's waist down to her hip and across her hipbone right toward...

...but then Santana barely grazes her inner thigh before moving her arm upward again and scratching Marley's stomach instead. Marley lets out a frustrated groan and Santana grins – she wonders if Marley's ever been properly teased before.

And fuck it, she's super high, in a playful mood, and wanting to get Marley so desperate for it that she loses herself in the feeling completely and just _lets go_, so Santana can bring out the super sexy girl she knows must be lurking somewhere beneath those hairbands and secondhand jeans.

"Santana," Marley breathes in a hoarse whisper, and Santana just hums in reply while seductively running her fingers from Marley's stomach over her chest to her neck, caressing the skin.

Marley bucks her hips up and Santana lifts herself up, denying her the friction. She smiles as she lowers her head toward Marley and Marley leans in to kiss her, but Santana turns her head away and goes to place light kisses on Marley's neck instead.

Marley huffs and curls her body sexily into Santana's – and God, is she fucking brain dead or something that she's blind to her own level of hotness? Marley scratches Santana's shoulder-blades and Santana bites down on Marley's neck in reply. Santana can feel the rumble of a groan against her tongue as she uses it to smooth over her bite mark, testing her own resolve to lengthen the teasing out.

But Marley decides she's had enough, then, and suddenly Santana finds herself on her back, looking up to Marley straddling her, and wow, she really is starting to like the ways in which Marley surprises her today.

Marley leans down and starts sucking on Santana's neck, and it's just so good that... Well, yeah, she's pretty sure – and pretty much hoping for the life of her – that Marley's feeling quite sexy by this point 'cause Santana needs to touch her, like, _now_.

Santana sits up and pulls Marley closer, kissing her and revelling in the feeling of Marley's thighs encircling so completely in this position. She breaks the kiss and leans down to go for a nipple again – Marley's tits really are _fantastic_ – and works it until Marley's groaning hopelessly, trying to grind down but feeling Santana's fingers digging into her hips, restraining the movement.

Santana detaches her lips and looks up to smirk at Marley, pleased with the wetness she felt when Marley tried to grind down the first time. Marley's looking at her now, eyes so fucking hooded – more from lust than from being stoned, Santana's sure – and Santana knows she's at that point when she may just be able to let loose and act without abandon, and so Santana pushes her left hand forward and swipes her hand through Marley's wetness.

Marley's mouth falls open at this slightest touch, and Santana knows she succeeded in her teasing. She almost laughs when she hears Quinn fucking Fabray's voice in her head, and thinks it's time to get on with the pleasing, now.

Hands come up to bracket Santana's shoulders and once again Marley's fingers find purchase in the strands of her hair, and then Marley just kind of pushes their cheeks together gently. The move makes Santana uncomfortable for about a second – to Santana, Marley seems like the kind of girl that is so used to _making love_ and all that jazz, and Santana wonders how all of this will with pan out, slightly worried at the thought – before Marley shifts her head to bite down on Santana's shoulder and then everything is okay.

Marley grinds forward insistently and Santana can't wait anymore and soon her fingers are being enveloped in warm heat and she groans out against Marley's collarbone, hearing Marley's answering moan being let out near her ear.

Marley starts moving immediately and Santana looks down at her body while she moves, watches Marley's hips roll forward and seeing her own hand working Marley up, and she just grins, because it's all too hot to process. She sits back and just watches for a bit, watches as Marley really starts riding her, and then smirks as she catches Marley's eyes.

"Feeling sexy yet?" Santana asks, staring at Marley's body appreciatively, knowing she doesn't have to say anything more than that to get her point across.

Marley grins and lets out a slight chuckle through her heavy breathing, and then leans forward and kisses Santana hotly. Santana responds by biting her lip before _really_ starting to fuck her.

She keeps their lips together as she turns her body around and pushes Marley on her back, driving her whole body behind her thrusts. Marley moans aloud at the move, face contorted in pleasure, and wanting to hear the sound again, Santana drives forward harder, thrusting her hips in tandem with her ever-speeding pace.

When Santana feels a hand on the inside of her thigh, she lifts her head from where it was tucked into Marley's shoulder and looks down questioningly. Marley's eyes are closed and her head in thrown back, but the hand moves again and then Santana's sure Marley's touching her back, and caught off guard, Santana breaks her rhythm a bit.

"Don't stop," Marley pleads, before Santana feels Marley pull down on her neck until they're kissing again.

Santana resumes her motions, jerking forward a bit when she feels Marley's hands starting to wipe to and fro.

It's all downhill from there – or well, rising up, really – and they settle into a rhythm easily. The friction Marley keeps – and just in the right spot, too, which is like, yeah – and the way Santana is just driving her hips into Marley builds them quickly, and Santana feels delirious from her high and the sound of her own moans mixing with Marley's in the room and the way Marley feels around and against her.

"Fuck," Marley breathes out, starting to shake underneath her, and Santana shuts her eyes at the profanity – the first she's ever heard fall from Marley's lips, and it's _hot_.

"God," Marley continues, "I–"

And then she's clenching around Santana's fingers, so fucking hard.

Santana lifts her head slightly and watches, out of the corner of her eye, how Marley's head shoots back and her neck strains, mouth hanging slack and eyes squeezed shut.

She'll deny it, later, but it's what drives her over as well, arching into Marley and digging her forehead into Marley's shoulder, groaning out as she comes.

Santana slows the movement of her hips, slowly coming to rest her body fully on top of Marley's. She stays like that for a few seconds, waiting for Marley to stop contracting around her fingers, then pulls out gently and rolls off Marley.

It takes a few seconds for her vision to centre in again, her ceiling slowly spinning into focus, her body feeling as if it's hovering slightly over her bed, mind removed from her skin.

There are few things that compare to weed-enhanced orgasms, she thinks.

When all her senses return to her, she hears someone else's heavy breaths along with her own, and looks to her right to find Marley trying to catch her breath, blinking up at the ceiling as well.

Santana almost laughs at the sight, beyond content, and can't help when a small chuckle escapes her lips.

Marley turns to look at her, too, and then she's giggling with Santana, bringing a hand up to throw over her eyes.

If Santana didn't know better, she'd seem bashful, but Santana guesses she's just also trying to regain her bearings, caught in the lovely afterglow of what just happened.

Eventually, their breathing evens out and then it's just Santana's music that softly fills the room. Santana's whole body feels like jello, and she just leaves the faint smile on her face while staring back up at the ceiling.

When some feeling returns to her limbs, she takes a steadying breath and sits up on her elbows.

She looks over to Marley, who looks down at her chest for a second, ears turning redder than it was, and Santana can't help but chuckle again. She rolls her eyes and sits up completely, reaching for her nightstand.

"Another?" Santana asks Marley, not sure if she means another joint or another round.

Marley says, "Yes," without thinking, and the way she looks at Santana, eyes suddenly hooded again, Santana's sure that Marley isn't quite sure which one she's agreeing to, either.

Santana finds she doesn't care.

–

Marley fucking rocks the house the next day.

Seriously.

Santana never thought that those super-white hips could move that way, but apparently, she's a fucking wizard in the sack if that is what happens as a result.

Of course, the New Directions win, and after the show, when Santana goes behind the curtain and a joyous Marley subtly drags her away from the group?

Well, then Santana wins, too.


End file.
